A Matter of Perception
by KaleidescopeCat
Summary: Do we all perceive the universe the same way? T'Pol finds out...


Disclaimer: I can't think of anything funny. I own nothing. However, I am open to donations... (hint, hint)

A/N: One shot wonder. I know I should be working on TRADING SPACES but the muse decided to throw me a line. (A T'Pol story to boot! How about that, eh?)

A MATTER OF PERCEPTION

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"...and here we have the Yriudu stalls, quite prosperous, really quite wonderful exotic fruits and vegetables, have you ever had a summer midual'll, Captain? Here, try one...add it to my account, Myrdi... yes, isn't that good?"

"Hmm, sort of like watermelon...no, that's okay, one is enough, thank you..."

"Oh, yes, and here we have the A'u'k'su breeders, animal trainers, simply marvelous, just look at their targs..."

T'Pol's nose wrinkled in spite of her nasal suppressants. Delicately avoiding a pile of targ refuse, she stepped away from the stall full of snapping, growling animals. 

"Captain, may I be excused?" she asked, standing on tiptoe to speak softly into his ear. "I see no reason for my presence here."

He threw a cursory glance at their ebullient host (who had failed to notice their lack of attention) and nodded. "What are you going to do, just wait in the shuttle?" he asked as she began to walk away.

"I have some scans to perform. I can complete them from the shuttle just as easily as from Enterprise," she replied. He nodded again and waved, turning back to the still-speaking host with a desperate look on his face.

"Oh, no, thank you for the kind offer, but I don't need any beasts of burden on my ship," she heard Archer say just before passing out of hearing range. 

The market grew considerably less crowded the farther she walked, away from the busy center of the station. Finally, she reached the outer rim and began to look for their docking port. To her dismay (or what would have been dismay had she been able to feel such a thing) the map of the station showed Shuttlepod One's airlock was all the way around the outer rim. She assessed the map and concluded that she need not go through the busy center of the station again; the hour that remained of the captain's tour would allow her time to walk around the outer ring. 

And so she set off, ignoring the cries of the merchants hawking their wares (they could spot a potential customer in an average 2.3 seconds, she calculated). 

The stars spun slowly outside the station; the faint hint of a cloudy nebula cast a slight purplish tinge over everything. T'Pol found herself slowing to appreciate the aesthetic arrangement of the lovely view. She stopped and found an empty spot at the window and simply looked for a moment. 

A small child occupied the next seat. It (T'Pol could not ascertain the sex) leaned on its elbows, bald gray head shining in the light, and fairly breathed in the light, such was its intense concentration on the sight outside. She leaned slightly closer, to see if the child was all right, and drew in a sharp breath, startled, to see that it had no eyes. 

//eyes,// it said, turning towards her. T'Pol, startled again by the voice in her mind, drew back before she could stop herself. //you seeing ones, you're all alike, just dismissing everything before you understand it at all.//

"Vulcans are a naturally tolerant species," said T'Pol. 

It shook its head. //communicate properly. vibrations in the air aren't communication.//

T'Pol looked at it, then back out at the stars. //can you see them without eyes?// she asked. She had a vague suspicion that this telepathic communication would be forbidden by the Vulcan High Council, even though it was not a direct mind-meld.

//i don't understand what you mean by seeing,// it said, somewhat sadly. //can you feel them, without feelers?// A seven-fingered hand, with nearly microscopic cilia waving across it, reached up and pointed to the dense bumps over its face. 

//you can detect the radiation? or the warmth?// asked T'Pol. 

It turned its head toward her, and T'Pol saw the bumps undulating, questing her out, tasting her odor and her body heat. //no vulcan has ever talked to me before,// it said. //i don't know if it's radiation. i'd like to see how your world is.//

//there is no way to do that,// said T'Pol. 

It ran a hand down her face, stopping briefly on her temples and cheeks. T'Pol did not move. 

//there is a way. please. i'll show you my world if you show me what seeing is like.//

She shivered and said, //i cannot.//

//your people are afraid of this... melding of minds? mind-melding?...why? it is only communicating.//

//i cannot.// T'Pol stood up, tried to go, felt the child's hand on her wrist. 

//please?// it begged, and T'Pol wondered if this really was a child, this strange entity who compelled her so. //please... //

She could not move. Carefully, the being placed its hands on her cheeks. The hall around them was utterly empty. T'Pol's mouth went dry; she felt cold, hard fear, and trembled.

//ahh...sight...// it said, and at once she could see nothing. Everything around her was black, and yet she was still aware of the objects around her. Like sonar, like electricity; she lacked the words to describe it in any sensation. Distantly, she felt the alien (she was sure now that it was no child) exclaim out loud, using her voice. She cast out, trying to speak, and felt a sort of energy leave her borrowed mind. Telepathy...impulses in the air... it was merely a different form of perception, nothing more.

//thank you,// said the alien. T'Pol blinked, back in her own body once more, and wondered at the difference. She 'heard' its voice in her head; the alien percieved it so differently, not having the luxury of sound. 

//an interesting experience, to be certain,// she said. 

//your people are very strange,// said the alien. //you fear to speak this way, fear to meld minds; you dismiss our natural way of communication as blasphemous.// It hopped down from the windowsill and stopped before walking away. //remember this, when it comes time to choose, my friend. different perceptions. that's all.//

It nodded once, the visual expression strange on its body, and strode down the hallway away from Shuttlepod One's airlock. T'Pol sat for a moment, wondered if it could catch Pa'naar Syndrome. She hoped not. 

She could hardly remember the brief flash of the alien's senses; she wondered if it would remember sight. Had it even comprehended sight? She supposed she would never know, as she got up and walked down towards the airlock. 

Different perceptions, that's all, she thought, and wondered if her people would ever learn to accept that part of their minds. Mind melds, a common occurence, not limited to the outcasts? Such valuable things could be gained from it; she had never thought of it in that way before. Different perceptions...

How different the world looks through another's eyes...or feelers...

Someday, perhaps, her people would learn. 

Someday. 

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FIN 


End file.
